Don't Look Back Until You're Free
by Anath Tsurugi
Summary: Whether it's science or magic, somehow it always seems to come back to Pidge trying to find her father.
1. Then

(A/N) Whoo, well, this little tale's been a bit of a whirlwind. I wrote this one for Sugarsaurus as part of the VLD valentine exchange and I didn't have much to go on, so I just started tinkering with pieces of urban fantasy AU and this is the result. It's a bit of an experiment in different types of story structure for me, so hopefully it's at least a little interesting. Happy reading!

**Don't Look Back Until You're Free**

_Then_

If you were to ask him, Keith would say he did an honest day's work. He hunted what needed hunting. He killed what needed killing, and he banished what needed banishing for the odd creature in between who couldn't actually _be_ killed. He made his living honestly, which was difficult in this day and age no matter what percentage of your blood was demonic, so when he made his way to his somewhat-father's bar at the end of the day, he had certain expectations of being able to take a load off – of knocking back a few drinks and being able to forget the day's incidences.

He should've known better than to expect _anything_ by now, really.

Takashi Shirogane had run the Den for time out of mind, and that was saying something for a community of less than natural beings; a number of whom could say when some new thing was the greatest thing since sliced bread without a trace of irony. No one actually knew what sort of creature the man was, but his bar had somehow become the center of the West Coast's supernatural community.

There were rumors, of course. When were there ever _not_ rumors? A banished arch demon, one of the Elder fey, from before the People had divided themselves into Seelie and Unseelie. Whatever the case was, the stories couldn't help but agree that Shirogane was possessed of powerful magic. How could it be otherwise when the man had survived numerous centuries of imprisonment in the Unseelie court, and had somehow managed to attract a fallen angel for a mate?

Adam himself would always debate the term 'fallen' angel, but he could never seem to satisfactorily explain what his actual state was to those few who were bold or stupid enough to ask, so the term remained.

Keith knew what both his guardians were, of course, but even in nearly eighty years of living with them, he had never glimpsed either of their true forms, and if Shiro wasn't sharing, it certainly wasn't his place to go babbling it around. So the rumors persisted.

On this particular evening, the angel was entertaining the tale that Shiro might be a demon. After all, all the best love stories included angels and demons. Keith wasn't really listening and he could see that Shiro was trying not to, but he would let loose an occasional chuckle as he cleaned glasses. Keith just rolled his eyes as he nursed his fire wine, Shiro and Adam's own special blend that they refused to share the recipe of, but that seemed to be the only liquor that could reliably get the cambion drunk. He was well into his second glass when he happened to notice Shiro's disapproving look in the direction of the bar's entrance. He followed the gaze to find the unfortunate soul on the receiving end of Takashi Shirogane's displeasure, having experienced it himself often enough.

Katie Holt.

More commonly known as Pidge, the seventeen-year-old witch was among the number not permitted in the bar after dark. Keith had honestly never been able to figure out what Shiro's actual rules were so far as drinking age went. What it boiled down to was, 'you're old enough when _I_ say you're old enough'. For Keith, it had been twenty-seven. For Pidge's older brother, Matt, it had been fifteen. Pidge herself, though? Whatever Shiro's determining factor was, she had yet to hit it. So the stipulation remained.

But the young witch didn't seem to notice what dangerous ground she was on. Spotting Shiro, she headed straight for him, a look that could kill burning in her eyes. Even with his more than human senses, Keith couldn't hear what she was saying to the bar owner, but he couldn't help but notice when Shiro nodded exactly in his direction.

Pidge made a beeline for his table, slamming her hands urgently down on the wooden surface when she reached it.

"Keith, I need your blood," she said, her voice telling him that this was very much not a joke.

The cambion started to shake his head. "Goblin Town still hasn't recovered from the _last_ spell you used my blood in. Whatever you're planning, I'm pretty sure you can find something a _little_ less destructive than my demon mutt blood."

Already, Pidge was shaking her head so insistently, Keith was half-amazed it remained attached to her neck. "This is nothing like last time. It _has_ to be you. I don't know any other cambions."

"So who are you trying to blow up this time?"

"Opposite, actually. It's for a healing spell."

"Healing spell?" Keith repeated in mild shock, aware that their conversation was beginning to draw attention. What healing spell could possibly call for cambion blood? His blood didn't heal. It harmed. It harmed like a pack of werewolves on a moon bender. What sadistic moron would dream up such a spell?

"Keith..._please_," the young witch tried again, her gaze becoming desperate. "It's for Dad."

That one immediately drew Keith's gaze from his young friend over to Shiro, who nodded when he caught his eye. Adam was still regaling the patrons with whatever tale he was telling, but Keith could tell he was paying attention to this, too. He also offered the cambion a similar, subtle nod.

It had been _years _since anyone had heard even a whisper of Samuel Holt. Most had given the brilliant witch up for dead after he had tangled with Haggar and the Wild Hunt over the murder of his wife, but his son and daughter had never been among that number. They'd never given up searching. Now it seemed all that time spent might _not_ have been for nothing. Only...what did any of that have to do with Pidge needing his blood?

"Anything you can tell me before we leave the Den?" he asked as he rose from his table, following Pidge to the back exit, where his motorcycle was parked.

"Wouldn't risk it," was her only response. The bar's wards were good for unwanted listeners on the outside, but the place was widely considered neutral territory. There was no accounting for who on the inside might overhear something you didn't want them to. Further information would have to wait until they reached the Holts' apartment.

"Save that bottle," Keith called to Shiro on the way out. "I'm getting the feeling I'll be needing it later."

"Be careful out there," Shiro warned them with a pointed look. Then they were out the back door and all conversation ceased.

Keith passed Pidge the helmet he stored with the bike. He had no use for it, but on the rare occasion he had a passenger like Pidge or Matt, who were slightly more on the mortal side, it was useful to have. once they were both situated, the cambion gunned the bike out of the alleyway. It had been a few months, but he still remembered the way to the small apartment complex on the other side of Marina.

Pidge was already pulling the helmet off before Keith had properly brought the bike to a stop. In the time it took him to park, she'd already leaped to the ground and was halfway to the dilapidated front door of the building where she lived with her brother. The pair remained silent as they climbed the creaking stairs up to the third floor.

Keith felt it the moment they passed through the wards surrounding the siblings' small home. Much more specific than the wards that protected the Den, they always reminded him of a chain locking in place behind him. As soon as the front door was shut, Matt was rushing into the front room, already asking, "Was he there?"

"Yeah," Keith answered for her. "Yeah, he was. What's this all about?"

Matt shook his head as he headed into the small kitchen. "Man, you really need to get a phone."

Keith shook his head, glaring at the older witch. "I did just fine without one before this decade, thank you."

"Spoken like a true immortal," Pidge cackled, though there was a slight edge in her voice as she went to help her brother prepare. Picking up a dagger from their table, she tossed it to him without looking. "Catch! Don't touch the blade if you can help it."

"What's this for?" he asked, catching the handle with a practiced flick of his wrist. Immediately, he felt the faint burn of holy power against his skin, even through the barrier of the golden handle. Glancing at the blade, he saw Enochian sigils traced upon its silvery surface with ash. This was some serious sanctifying mumbo jumbo. He wouldn't be able to hold it for long.

"Pretty sure you understand the purpose of a knife, Keith 'cut-all-the-things' Kogane," Pidge snarked as she yanked open the fridge, pulling out a faintly smoking beaker that was filled near to the brim with a blue sage-scented liquid.

"No, I mean I have my own blades," he pointed out, free hand gesturing vaguely to the twin belts around his waist, both bristling with any kind of dagger any hunter worth their salt could want.

"No good," Matt fired back as he set an old, banged up cooking pot down on their stovetop, pushing the dial to the highest setting before pulling a tackle box out from under the sink and setting it on the counter. "The blood has to be drawn by a holy sword. I just spent the last _hour_ consecrating that."

"You want me to cut myself with a holy blade?" Keith demanded incredulously, resisting the urge to drop the dagger. "Do you have any idea how long that's gonna take to heal? What the actual fuck, you guys?"

The Holt siblings ceased in their preparations to share a look. Pidge looked uncertain, but Matt finally nodded. Leaving the prep work to his sister, the witch jerked his head in the direction of the back rooms. "Come on. I need to show you something."

Keith followed Matt back to his bedroom. The small space was lit only by a few candles, but it was still enough for the cambion's enhanced eyes to see perfectly. Laid out on the young witch's air mattress was a man, naked from the waist up.

Well, a man, perhaps, but no human man. Keith could tell that right away. The scent was all wrong. If he had to choose something to compare this man's scent to, he would have to say it most closely resembled Adam's scent. He'd never had a name for the scent, but it made him think sunlight – sunlight and a warm breeze with just a touch of ozone. As peaceful and volatile as a spring sky. But mixed in with this strange, undefinable scent, there was also the distinct scent of blood, and that was due to the horrific gashes that traversed the length of the man's shoulders and back, marring his bronzed skin with oozing trails of blood. Unconscious, the man groaned pitifully in his sleep.

"What...what happened to him?" Keith managed to make himself ask, unable to tear his eyes away from the man.

"We're not really sure. Dad sent him to us, along with the spell to heal him. Wherever they were, it looks like this poor bastard just barely managed to escape. We...we think he's probably..."

"An angel," Keith finished when Matt was unable to.

"Right. And if anybody would know how to heal an angel...it would be Dad. So...whatever happened to him...it was probably _her_ that did it."

"Haggar," the cambion said quietly, voice tinged with venom and rage and a touch of fear.

"Yeah. He needs your blood, Keith. Otherwise, he's gonna die. Are you going to help us or not?" Matt asked him, laying a firm hand on his shoulder.

Seeing the injured angel, lying so still and helpless on the mattress, Keith couldn't help but picture others in his place – others who had suffered at the hands of the Queen of Air and Darkness.

Colleen...Shiro...Allura...Alfor...his own parents...so _many_. And now this innocent angel had gotten caught up in it as well. With a renewed sharpness, he felt the pain of the dagger clutched in his fist. He nodded once.

"I'll help."

"Keith! I'm ready out here!" Pidge called for them. "I need that blood. It's now or never."

Hurrying back out to the kitchen, Keith held the consecrated blade just an inch above his vulnerable skin, not yet daring to touch the dangerous weapon to his skin until he knew exactly what it was that was going to happen.

"How did you want me to do this?" he asked them. Pidge waved him over to the stovetop.

"Just bleed into the pot. I'll let you know when we hit capacity," she informed him, stirring the concoction simmering on the burner once to the right and twice to the left before backing away, making space for Keith before the brew.

Taking a moment beforehand to steel himself, Keith slashed the holy blade cleanly across his left wrist, feeling the burn of it like he would no other injury. His blood welled up quickly from the wound, so dark as to almost be black. Once he had enough of a flow going, he held his wrist over the pot, letting the liquid pour into the brew.

The blue substance swiftly turned red, coming to a roiling boil in the pot. Pidge stuck her head over the concoction, inhaling the scent, determining things Keith would never be able to. She threw open the tackle box Matt had brought out earlier and retrieved a chip of fluorite from inside, pitching it into the mix. This caused the brew to turn a very pale blue.

"Still not there," the young witch growled. "Matt, what do the notes say for spider fang?"

"Tablespoon," he answered after glancing at a sheave of papers on the table, taking a moment to toss Keith a ratty dishtowel to press against his bleeding wrist.

"I'm...gonna say he wasn't accounting for Keith being halfway to drunk. We'll try an extra half," she said, pulling a jar down from one of the cabinets and divvying out the requisite amount of spider fang. Once it had dissolved, the mixture emitted a small puff of smoke before transforming back into its initial deep blue color. Pidge pumped a fist in the air, a look of triumph lighting up her face. "And we are go."

"Then let's get going," Matt said, pulling a chipped Hello Kitty mug down from another cabinet and ladling some of the freshly brewed potion into it. Pidge and Keith both followed him back to his bedroom.

The elder Holt knelt beside his mattress with the mug in hand, reaching forward with his other hand to touch the side of the angel's face.

"Hey, Lance? You still with me in there?" he prodded gently.

The angel, Lance, whimpered in pain, fingers digging into the rumpled bedding.

"No...no..._please_," he whispered in a desperate voice.

"Lance, it's over now," Matt tried to soothe him. "You're safe. We're gonna help you, but I need you to drink this." He tried to get the angel onto his side, but he couldn't manage to get a handle on the injured man without fear of spilling the potion. "Pidge? Keith? A little help?"

The two moved to the other side of the mattress, quickly rolling the angel onto his back. Keith felt a small twinge of guilt when Lance cried out, struggling against them, but he knew this had to be done. There was no two ways about it. Once they had him in position, Matt forced the mug against his lips, making sure he drank down its contents..

At first, Keith couldn't properly describe what was happening. It was like the angel's blood was suddenly lit from within, forming crystalline red rivulets along his skin. Then his injuries were no longer oozing blood. They were oozing _light._

Then the angel's eyes burst open, stark white light pouring from them as a violent wind tore through the room, blowing all three of them back from him.

"_Ol zir a noco de olapireta,_" he declared in a voice like thunder as he slowly rose into the air.

"What's happening?" Pidge demanded over the noise of the gale force wind.

"I don't know!" Matt shouted back. As they watched, an actual pair of _wings_ burst into existence at the angel's back.

"_Ol zir a napea de malpirgi od a arezodi de teloah,_" he said, voice like nothing so much as it was like everything, the possibility virtually endless. Even as his wings glowed with holy fire, a strange dark light began to thread through them, slowly turning each feather black.

"_Hoxmarch en dooain, lap Ol zir bagie. Ol zir a ialapereji de anupe, a hara imtelo,_" he proclaimed, and as Keith beheld the fiery being before him, he was faced with the understanding that an angel is both beautiful and terrible to behold.

When the wind finally died down and the light began to fade, Lance's eyes flickered closed and whatever power was holding him aloft simply dissipated, leaving him to collapse. Before he was even aware of what he was doing, Keith was in motion, taking the angel in his arms before he could fall to the floor entirely. Even with what should've been the added weight of his massive wingspan, he felt no more substantial in the cambion's arms than a handful of snow.

Matt and Pidge were talking, but he wasn't really hearing what they were saying. All of his attention was focused on the angel cradled in his arms. Whatever episode he'd just been through, his injuries were healed, and he looked to be somewhat at peace as he slept. At rest and free of pain and terror, Keith knew he could say, without doubt or exception, that Lance was the most beautiful creature he had ever seen.

Might be in trouble here.


	2. Lance - Before

_Lance - Before_

Lance didn't remember much about the place he'd been – before.

He remembered flying. He remembered freedom. He remembered warmth and light and joy.

And he remembered something dark...something reaching dangerously for his siblings.

_"Don't touch them!"_

_"You are not what I desired."_

_"That's too bad. You __**will not**_ _touch any of them. If you want an angel, you're taking me."_

_"So be it."_

He remembered that cold, cruel smile. He remembered being torn in pieces so infinitesimally small, they could never be placed back exactly as they were...not on this plane. He remembered being bound in chains of flesh.

And he remembered _agony._

Unending, unendurable agony. The owner of that voice, of that smile – _the queen_ – attempting to tear secrets from him, knowledge he couldn't give, but that she insisted he must have. Otherwise what good was he?

And he remembered Samuel Holt's tender, pitying smile. He remembered the way that smile faltered, the way those kindly hands shook as he set him free, his own chance at escape given up for Lance's sake.

_"Tell them I love them. Tell them they must not look for me. I am lost to them as surely as their mother is."_

He remembered the taste of ambrosia and ash in his mouth, and he remembered the flare of divine fire in his veins again after _so many years_.

And he remembered the gentle warmth of a demon-born's embrace upon collapsing into his arms.


	3. Keith - Before

_Keith - Before_

"So you think you can just threaten me in my own home?"

The emissary smiled faintly at Shiro, the sharpness of his teeth glinting through his glamour. "How is it I have threatened you, Shirogane?"

"Even _insinuating_ that a child is something that could be bought or traded for constitutes a threat in my book," he growled, several tiny sparks of flame dancing along his fingertips, revealing the faint silhouette of claws against the air. "The boy is under _my_ protection. I'll give you _one chance_ to leave peacefully. You tell Honerva that if she ever lays a _hand_ on him, it will cost her the whole arm, queen or no."

The emissary laughed. "My Lady Queen can be a great deal more _imaginative_ than that, I think. Your vow will only carry this so far, though. You made your oath to Krolia, but she made hers to the queen first. Fruit was promised, and that fruit has taken form. That child is _owed_ to Her Majesty, and she _will_ have him. We will _never_ stop hunting you."

"Shiro?" Keith whimpered in fear as he clung to Adam's chest. They had _promised_ none of the bad ones would get him, but his mama had explained to him about deals once. They _had_ to be honored. Did Shiro...have no other choice?

Shiro looked back at him with sorrow in his liquid dark eyes. He said nothing to either of them, but something steeled in his gaze before he turned his attention back to the emissary.

"If it's only one life your queen requires in order for her bargain to be met, then have one. Have _mine_."

"Takashi..." Adam whispered in shocked horror, though he made no move to stop him.

"Shiro, no!" the five-year-old cambion cried, starting to struggle against Adam's hold on him.

The emissary's patient smile transformed into a triumphant sneer at this. "The great Takashi Shirogane for one little cambion? _Done,_" he snarled easily, reaching a hand forward to shake Shiro's outstretched one. Then they were gone.

"No! _NO! NOOOO!_" Keith screamed, struggling against his guardian's hold, but there was nothing either of them could do.

Shiro was gone.


	4. Now

_Now_

"Keith, _watch out!_"

Keith turned sharply at the sound of Lance's voice, raising his blade to swiftly decapitate the werewolf coming at him from behind. A lone howl sounded before the head was separated from the neck, flying away through the park.

"Lance, what the _actual fuck?_" Keith demanded as he wiped his sword off on the fresh corpse. "I thought you were going to find Shay."

The angel glared at him as he appeared out of the darkness, blue eyes briefly flaring with holy fire. "Well, I _was_, but then I heard him coming after you. I was worried you weren't ready for him."

The cambion shrugged as he sheathed his weapon. "I would've figured it out."

Lance sighed as he glanced down at the dead werewolf. He dropped to one knee beside the maddened creature and rested a hand on his back before beginning to chant in Enochian. "_Noaln a caosga edna elasa,_" he said, the words causing the were's remains to crumble into dust. There was pity in his gaze as he looked back up at Keith. "Rax isn't gonna be happy about this."

"No, he isn't," Keith agreed, drifting over to one of the swing sets that occupied the small playground. "But Shay's a bit more practical. She said we could handle it however we needed to. He might've hurt more people."

"Heh, you ever think maybe _she_ ought to be the pack alpha?" Lance wondered aloud as he came to join Keith on the swings.

"Constantly," he returned with a small laugh, "but there's only so much you can do to convince someone who doesn't want the job. It'll be interesting to see what things look like when she finally has her litter."

Lance chuckled, offering up a dreamy smile as he started to spin around, twisting the swing chains together. "Aw, I hope I'm here to see it. She and Hunk are gonna make the cutest pups under the sun."

_Yeah...I really hope you're here, too._

The mention of Lance's possibly being gone drew both of them back into a somber mood. Adam and the Holts had been working hard on a spell to return the angel to his home dimension ever since he'd been unceremoniously dropped in their laps. It would be better for everyone, and safer for Lance, if they were able to see him safely back home, but...at the same time...in the last year, he'd also somehow become one of them.

It was going to be hard to say goodbye.

"Lance?"

"Hmm?"

"Do you ever...I dunno...think about staying?" the cambion found himself asking before he could stop, breath catching in his throat as he waited for a response. He couldn't bring himself to look at the angel in those scant, stretched-out moments.

"Sometimes," Lance answered several minutes later, causing Keith's breath to catch yet again. "I mean...I don't really remember much about- where I was before. I don't know what I'd be going back to. But...while I'm still here...I think I'm putting you all in danger, so I _have_ to go back. It's the only way. Even...even if I _wanted_ to stay...I couldn't do that."

_Even if you __**wanted**_ _to?_ Keith thought with a bitter laugh. Of course. Who could possibly want to remain bound to a mudball like this when it just might be Heaven that awaited you?

"Lance-" he started in again, suddenly afraid he might _really_ say something stupid this time.

"Do you hear that?" Lance interrupted him before he could say something he would regret. His face scrunched up in concentration as he listened. "It sounds kind of like...dogs?"

Keith _did_ hear it, now that he thought about it. It was a lot of dogs, if that was what it was. And were those...motorcycles?

_You hear it. I know you do._

"I...I don't-"

_Heed the call, child of the dark. Your blood is already hot._

Slowly, he rose to his feet, beginning to follow the call.

"Keith?"

_Hear and obey, demon's get. Give yourself over to us. You know what we seek._

"Keith, where are you going?"

_Bring him to us. He is the seed brought to life._

"Keith, _stop!_"

He felt the angel fling his arms around him, heard the desperation in his voice, but still he couldn't obey. The call was in his blood, boring down to the marrow of his bones.

_Come, child. Come be with your brothers. Take up the Hunt, little hunter._

"_KEITH!_"

Lance was screaming now, truly desperate. For a moment, the cambion could see nothing before him – nothing but the hollowed, golden eyes of the Queen of Air and Darkness.

_He is __**mine**__, foolish child. Mine to me. You could never have hoped to keep him. Now bring him to me._

"_NOO!_" Keith shrieked, using every last bit of his own will to tear his thoughts out of the Unseelie queen's grip. Turning in Lance's grip, he clung tightly to him for several moments, anchoring himself to the spot. If he didn't, the risk that he might heed the call, that he might lose himself, was just too great.

"Keith?" Lance started hesitantly, clinging just as tightly to him. "What is that? What's going on?"

"It's them," Keith whispered back, not daring to speak the name aloud for fear of calling them down on them. With the way Lance had been shouting his name, they might be doomed already. "It's _her_."

That one needed no explanation. There was only one 'her' in Lance's mind – the one who had dragged him to this plane.

The queen of the Unseelie.

Haggar.


	5. Pidge - Before

_Pidge - Before_

Impossible as it was, Pidge remembered her mother.

She had distinct memories of the sound of her mother's laughter, the warmth of her smile. She could see her holding Matt as a toddler, could see her sharing a tender kiss with their father. She could _see_ her, both under the guise of her human glamour and the beauty and danger that lay just beneath that – the fey woman who had fallen in love with a human witch.

Pidge had all these memories, even though she _knew_ she couldn't. At the level of logic, she knew Colleen Holt had spent her last breath to give her her first. She knew that her mother's very being had been slowly, painfully stripped away around her own still developing soul – burnt away, atom by atom, until there was nothing left but the faintest impression of a womb, held together by an indomitable will to protect the child still growing within.

They thought she didn't know this. They thought she knew only that her mother had been murdered by the Unseelie. But she did know. She knew because she dreamed of it at night. Some part of her mother had been inextricably bound up in her own psyche during that desperate, brutal struggle to give _her_ life. She didn't imagine it had been Colleen's intent, but a piece of that unbearable suffering had been gifted to her defenseless child. The darkest, most horrific of her nightmares were of being tied down and flayed away, bit by bit, until she was nothing but a naked mind, stripped and helpless in the dark.

She didn't scream. She never screamed. By the time the moment of abject terror arrived, she no longer had a mouth. All she ever had upon awakening from these night terrors was the ashy, bloody taste of bitter hatred on her bitten tongue. The only person she imagined could possibly hate the Unseelie queen more than she did was her own father. She was constantly wondering why Samuel Holt had left his children out of his plans to move against Haggar.

But he had, and there was nothing much for her and Matt to do but to continue searching for him.


	6. Keith - Then

_Then_

They brought Lance to the Den after it closed in the small hours of the morning. With his angelic aura newly glowing, the protective amulet that Samuel had sent him with was barely enough to conceal his presence. It was a relief to all of them to arrive at the bar unscathed.

Shiro, Adam, and Hunk were all awaiting them anxiously, though Shiro and Adam were less visibly worried than Hunk, who had been nervously working on some drink or other in the small back kitchen.

"So," Adam began once everyone had grabbed a chair, "I understand we've a new angel in our midst."

"_New_ angel?" Lance asked, looking up at Adam, who shrugged, smiling faintly.

"I don't suppose the aura looks at all the same; I've been on this plane so long, but yes. I'm not unlike you, little one."

"Were you- _summoned_ here?" Lance asked, stumbling on the word, not seeming to like the taste it left in his mouth.

"No. I am here of my own volition."

"Well, that's _his_ story, at least," Shiro added with a small chuckle.

Adam raised an eyebrow as he smirked sideways at his husband. "Oh? Have I somehow misunderstood the last few millennia? Do you not _want_ me here, Takashi Shirogane? I can always go back to where I came from."

"Could you, though?" Shiro returned with a raised eyebrow of his own. Adam held his gaze for several moments before shaking his head.

"No. I don't suppose I could. Even if I could, I never would," he said, leaning across the small space between their chairs to press a kiss to his lips.

"Gag," Pidge groaned, drawing her legs up to sit cross-legged on her chair. "The granddads are getting mushy again. Maybe we should come back in a week."

"Only a week?" Adam challenged. "I'd like to think I could be a _little_ more inventive than that."

Pidge mimed throwing up while Matt swallowed heavily, his eyes widening. Keith cringed slightly. He loved the pair like fathers, of course, but that didn't mean he needed to picture what they did behind closed doors. Shiro was the one to finally come to the rescue.

"If I don't let Katie drink, I'm definitely not having you tell her about our sex life. I think we have more important things to discuss this morning."

"Why couldn't you?" Lance suddenly asked.

"Hmm?" Adam tried to clarify, turning his attention back to the younger angel.

"If you wanted to, I mean. Why couldn't you go back?"

Adam leaned back in his chair, eons shifting across his face as he considered his answer.

"I was first..._deployed_ to this plane in the days when the Divine was a little more militant in enforcing its will. I was sent to kill Takashi. I made a different call," he said, meeting his love's eyes once again. Shiro smiled at him, a look that was thousands of years old passing between them. Before he turned to Lance once again, he reached to grip Shiro's hand in his. "And of course...Heaven didn't like having its will defied. My punishment for choosing Takashi was to never return to the Divine realm."

"Not for nothing, but weren't they trying to _punish_ you?" Pidge pointed out. "That seems more like a reward to me."

Adam shrugged. "Oh, I imagine Heaven's probably arrogant enough to believe there is no worse punishment than to be parted from it. I certainly wasn't going to argue the point."

"Breakfast!" Hunk announced as he swept in from the kitchen with a tray, which was loaded down with croissants and cups of what smelled like hot chocolate. He moved around the circle of chairs with a smile for everyone, passing out the food as he went. "Sorry it's a little slapdash. It's been an interesting night."

Matt sighed in pleasure as he bit into his croissant. "Hunk, you wanna know who here is an angel? It's you. Everything you make is delicious."

"Eh, I try," the brownie said with a little shrug and a pleased grin. Then he brought the last of the mugs to Lance with a look that was more nervous than anything else.

"Do...do you eat?" Hunk asked the angel. "I know Adam doesn't _need_ to eat, but he still enjoys it sometimes."

The angel glanced between all of them before accepting the mug, maybe trying to figure out how it was done. Then he offered the brownie a weary smile. "Thank you."

He took a slow, small sip of the drink, remaining still and silent for a moment, seeming to contemplate the flavor. Then his eyes burst open and he blinked up at Hunk in wonder.

"This- this is _amazing!_" he gushed. "I've never had anything like this before."

The brownie laughed as he handed Lance a croissant. "Thanks. I guess we can officially say our food's Heaven-approved now," he said as he grabbed a chair for himself. "Though...I do have to wonder how great Heaven actually is if they don't have hot chocolate there."

"Cheers," Adam said as he raised his mug.

"So...what, exactly, happened last night?" Hunk was the one to finally ask as everyone else ate. Pidge quickly gobbled down the rest of her croissant before responding.

"Matt and I were out for ice cream down at the boardwalk. I was eyebrows deep in a double scoop of mint chip when there's suddenly a half-naked man stumbling through the sand in front of me. He looks at me, says, 'You have Samuel's eyes,' then passes out in my ice cream."

"Wherever Dad sent him from, he must've had a direct lock on us," Matt said.

"How do you know it was him?" Shiro asked.

"Dad sent his notes with him. No mention of what was actually done to him, just how to heal his human form...how to jumpstart his Grace," the elder sibling explained, staring intently down into his mug.

"Do you have any idea where you were?" Shiro asked Lance.

The angel shook his head. "I'm sorry, but I don't. Some sort of chamber. It was the only place I'd seen since...waking up in this body," he said, shifting his mug to glance down at his hand.

"And do you know _why_ it is she summoned you? Do you know why Haggar brought you here?" Adam asked him.

They all flinched on hearing the name, Lance more so than all of them. It was force of habit by now. Even though they all knew the Unseelie queen couldn't see inside the Den while the wards were active, it was just too deeply ingrained by this point, avoiding speaking the name out loud – and to be afraid when it _was_ spoken.

"What does anybody want from an angel?" Lance said quietly. "To reach beyond the world of the living...to try and find someone who's passed on. I couldn't give her what she wanted, but...she wouldn't let me go. She kept trying," he whispered, eyes growing wider and more horrified with each memory.

Keith didn't see Adam move, but he was suddenly beside Lance, a hand resting firmly on his shoulder. "Peace, little one. She can't touch you here. If we have any say in it, she will never touch you again. We'll see that you get home."

"But...what about Samuel?" Lance asked, gaze lifting to Adam for a moment before shifting to Pidge and Matt. "Where- wherever we were...he's still trapped there. He was kind to me. He saved my life. I- I want to help find him."

"And you can, but in the meantime, we'll also be working on figuring out a way to get you back home. That's the option with the fewest question marks for everyone's safety. If we can get you back to Heaven, Haggar won't be able to breach it again. Not in any of your lifetimes, at least. It's better that we stop her plans now, before she can do anymore damage to the fabric of this dimension," Adam explained. "Because- I'm sad to say it, but she will stop at nothing to achieve her ends. Heaven and Earth will hardly be of any concern to her."

"I have a question," Hunk started in again, raising a hand. "Why did the healing potion need _Keith's_ blood of all people? I mean- angels and demons...they're sorta opposites, aren't they?"

"Not so much. Fundamentally, angels and demons are the same kind of being, but you know how I feel about the word fallen, so in this case, I think I'll say that the first demons were angels that were...unbound."

Lance turned to look at Keith, giving the cambion just enough time to turn away before the angel could notice he'd been staring at him.

"Thank you."

"Huh?" Keith mumbled as he looked back up at him, feeling like he maybe hadn't understood.

"I didn't- thank you before. I know it's- no small favor...to give your blood. It was you. You were the reason I- survived. So thank you," he said again.

"No problem," the cambion said – more grunted, really, turning away again when he felt the heat of a blush spread across his face. This was only the beginning of it, he knew. There was a lot that still needed to be figured out. They had all always known they'd someday be pulled back into Haggar's plots. It couldn't be otherwise. But this man – this _angel_ – beautiful and brave, _so_ brave. To be tortured by the Unseelie queen herself...and to still be willing to venture back into her clutches to save someone else? Even if he hadn't felt something snap into place between them the moment he had seen those pure wings crackle black, he would be lost.

Fucked.

He was completely and totally _fucked_.


	7. Shiro - Before

_Shiro - Before_

Humans did not understand time.

And really, how could they? When they occupied the world for such a little space of it? Shiro could never fault them for their lack of understanding. It had never been in his nature to blame a child for ignorance. His view on most humans was much the same. They just didn't know – _couldn't_ know.

They had their version of forever. And he had his.

They had their clocks and years and calendars and minutes and they had made it all so complicated, when time lived was really nothing more than one's perception of it. It was _why_ time could pass so differently between worlds. Why a hundred years in Faerie meant little more than an hour in the mortal world, or the other way around.

Un-aging as his kind were, he couldn't have said how long he had been trapped in the Unseelie court, or what the reflection of that time was on the other side. Chained to Honerva – Haggar? – as he was, his perception was lacking. Human forever was as much of time as their minds could perceive. His forever was being without Adam – without his angel. It mattered little how many of her allies, enemies, and prisoners the Unseelie queen forced him to fight, fuck, or kill his way through. He was only miserable in this forever because he was apart from his love. Sometimes the only thing that kept him going was the knowledge that Adam was still free – still free and upholding his promise to Krolia to keep her son safe.

"Are you with me in there, my dark champion?" Haggar's voice pierced his thoughts, drawing him from his inner musings and into the present moment. Unfortunately, that also drew him into the pain of the queen's new favorite pastime – draining away his essence, piece by piece. He wasn't sure what she planned to use it for, but he had his theories. He also imagined he had a great deal more _being_ than even she had anticipated. It would take time, but he was certainly not going to make it easy for her. His only response was to glare up at her from his bonds, holding back as much of himself as he could manage.

"Heh, it's been so long since you've really looked at me, Takashi...with those eyes so full of hate," she said, trailing a single finger down the side of his face, then down onto his chest, her hand splaying across the bare skin. "How they _burn_ with hate. Tell me how you hate me, my knight," she hissed, hands moving to grip his hips, draining even more away from him.

There was much he could have said, much he would've _liked_ to say to her, but he kept his accusations simple, staring into those hollowed out eyes as he spoke.

"You're a murderer...and a liar...and the things you've done are unforgivable," he said, slowly, deliberately.

There was no worse insult among the fey than to be called a liar, but the queen was clearly long past concerning herself with that. She gripped him a little tighter as she drew even more power from him.

"I don't need to be forgiven. All I need is to get back what was taken."

"At what cost, o q_ueen?_" he pressed. "Your brother? Your niece? Your own _son?_ Is this what Zarkon would want? What you and Lotor did to Allura was-"

"How different are you from me?" she interrupted him with a glare, physical and mental talons digging all the deeper into him. "They called you a being of light once, but you have just as much dark power and intent coiled in those veins as I do. Believe me, o Living Flame, if you were to lose your precious angel, you would be no better than I. In fact, I think you would serve me quite willingly."

"Never," he hissed, the taste of ash and flame in his mouth barely enough to mask just how much like a lie the word tasted on his tongue. He was no fairy, of course, but her words came a little to close to truth for his comfort. He had been a god once, a benevolent guardian. What monster might he become if he were to lose Adam?

_Many_ years later, when he was free of the Unseelie, he often found himself thinking he didn't truly mind all the things Haggar had taken from him. Maybe he no longer had his wings, but he still had his beloved archangel to hold him at night – to chase away the fear that he might be little better than the one who had done this to him.


	8. Adam - Before

_Adam - Before_

_"I was sent to kill Takashi. I made a different call."_

He had never made a different call before.

He was Azrael, most clear-headed of the archangels, bearer of Heaven's justice. When it was decreed that, for the good of the human world, the Old Gods needed to be brought to their knees, he had not questioned it. He had assumed Heaven knew best. Had never once thought to ask questions.

But then had come face to face with a fiercely devoted young god whose only desire had been to defend the people who looked to him for protection. He had found a keen and fiery warrior who could easily take life, but one who could also take human form and walk among them, laughing as he caught small children in his arms.

He had found long nighttime conversations over the nature of power and absolute power, of fate and choice, of responsibility and leadership. He had seen truths he'd never known about in those dark, tender eyes. He had experienced passions he'd never before understood in his embrace. He had come to know him_self_ in a way he'd never dreamed possible.

So, when the time came that Heaven made its final demand for the young god's blood, he had made a different call. He had thrown down his holy sword and refused the command of execution – refused to fight forever more.

_"This is where your heart truly lies then...Bringer of Justice, Clear-headed Azrael?"_

_"Yes."_

And so they had cast him out. Left him to the mercies of the mortal realm. Their divine order had begun to fall apart after that, devolving into infighting and revolution, but he'd hardly been able to bring himself to care.

He was with his love.


	9. Lance - Now

_Now_

Keith had fallen silent the moment he had identified their peril to Lance, urging him to do the same. The angel didn't protest when the cambion dragged him to his bike.

"Where are we going?" Lance whispered, uncertain who or what might be able to hear them.

"We need to find cover. They'll have heard you say my name. They know where we are," he explained in his own hissed whisper. "The Den's not close enough. We'll go to P...the place you and I first met," he explained, hurtling the bike out onto the dimly-lit streets. If they could hear names, they could just as easily hear either of them say where they were going.

"Why can't I just fly us there?" he asked in the same whispered tone, knowing that Keith would hear him even over the roar of the wind rushing by.

"They can track that," Keith called back, his hair beginning to whip past Lance's face with the wind. Lance tucked his head down against the cambion's back to avoid the worst of it, also getting the added bonus of being able to feel Keith's warmth through his jacket.

"And...who's 'they'?" he asked, not really expecting an answer, but still anxious to know.

"Not here," Keith called back to him.

Part of Lance wanted to push the envelope, as he always did with Keith. There always seemed to be at least one more button to push with the cambion, but this was different. He had seen Keith face down monsters twice his size and five times as horrifying and the man had never once flinched. Now, though?

Now there was real fear in him. Lance understood about Haggar, no problem, but whatever it was she was sending after them...what was it that could strike such terror into Keith Kogane's heart?

Lance was fairly certain they reached the Holt's apartment faster than was physically possible, but he wasn't exactly going to question it. Normally, he would've protested the way Keith manhandled him down off the bike and into the old apartment complex, but there was nothing normal about this situation. When they arrived at the siblings' door, the cambion began to pound furiously on it.

"I really hope you two aren't out in this!" he shouted by way of identification, apparently not even willing to risk speaking their names out loud. A few minutes later, Matt's voice sounded on the other side of the door.

"Who is it?"

"You _know_ I can't say, you idiot!"

"And _you_ know I can't just open this door, Keith," Matt snarled back. "I need something better than that."

Keith banged a fist against the door in a fit of frustration before letting it slide off. Lance had seen him punch down doors with his bare hands before, but he knew that would defeat the purpose this time. Without the door, the Holts' wards would be less than useless. What could they do to identify themselves without names?

"Your mom..." Keith started after a time, his shoulders trembling faintly as he stared at the closed door, "your mom used to make me hot chocolate with marshmallows...when _I_ was little...before even your dad was born. She used to look after me...when...before..." he recounted, his voice beginning to choke off as his shoulders trembled harder.

"Ke-" Lance started hesitantly.

"_Shh!_" the man hissed violently before the angel could speak his name. Barely remembering himself, he reached out a hand to lightly touch Keith's shoulder. He felt the cambion tense beneath his touch, but he was relieved when it didn't become a full on flinch. Before either of them could say anything more, the door was jerked open and Matt was yanking them inside.

"Close it!" he heard Matt snapping. When he turned back to the door, it was to see Pidge slamming it shut, pulling out a knife and carving a sigil into the wooden surface to go with the line of sigils already present. Once she'd finished her task, the younger Holt rounded on them with an angry look.

"What the _fuck_ were you two knuckleheads doing out there? On a night like _this?_ With _them_ out?" she hissed.

"I didn't know they were riding tonight. All right?" Keith snapped. "It's not like they post notice when a hunt's called."

"But you should've been paying attention," Matt scolded him in the same quiet hiss. "You know she's going to come after him any way she can."

"I _know_, but...but _this?_ To call..._them?_ Who would even be leading this one?" the cambion asked, looking around at all of them in desperation.

"There's only one person who still _can_," Pidge pointed out. "It has to be- Lotor."

"And if she's desperate enough to let her only son lead-"

They were saying more, but Lance wasn't fully aware of it. The name Lotor had unleashed a slew of terrible memories for him – memories of a cold sneer, cruel laughter, and crueler hands.

Lotor. Prince of the Unseelie.

"Lance? _Lance?_"Keith's voice suddenly cut through the swath of panic and terror seeping into his mind. He dragged himself slowly out of it to find the cambion's dark eyes gazing into his with worry. "Are you here?"

"I...I..."

"Come on," Keith pleaded with him, grabbing onto his hand and pulling him after the Holts. "We don't have time to argue. We need to get away from the windows."

"We aren't- safe under the wards?" he got himself to ask, focusing on something other than his surging nightmares.

"The wards are good for blotting out individual names, especially names like Haggar and Lotor," Pidge began to explain as they all bustled into the apartment's modestly-sized bathroom. "But they wouldn't stand up if we were stupid enough to actually say the name out loud. I don't think _any_ wards are capable of withstanding the full force."

"_What is it?_" the angel finally demanded, his voice made much higher by fear and worry. "What, exactly, is out there?"

The siblings shared a look before closing the bathroom door. Pidge raised an eyebrow at Matt as he pulled two small guns from under the sink, tossing one to her. Lance didn't fail to notice the way they all placed themselves between him and the door as Keith shuffled him into the bathtub, one of his blades already drawn.

"It's all right," Matt finally insisted out loud. "They can't read."

Groaning, Pidge fished her phone from her pocket. She typed something up on it before turning it and showing him the screen.

The Wild Hunt.

"It's one of the worst things she commands," Keith explained. "The darkest and most ancient of all the powers the Unseelie possess. When they're called...they don't stop until prey is taken."

"Then...what happens tonight?"

"We hope they can be satisfied with someone else," the cambion said tersely. "It's the strongest force she has, but it's not always...completely governable."

"You mean...you want someone else to be taken in my place?" Lance demanded, his voice rising in pitch.

"Do you see another option here?" Keith demanded, eying him sharply in the dim light. "Because giving you to them's _definitely_ not an option."

"We can't just-"

The long clear note of a hound's hunting bay somewhere nearby interrupted his argument, cowing him into silence. The call was quickly followed by a sound that was some strange combination of thundering hoofbeats and the roar of motorcycle engines.

"They're riding," Matt said quietly, seating himself against the door. Pidge sat opposite him, just a few feet away against the far wall, twirling her gun around her finger in a clear effort to appear less worried than she was.

"You shouldn't feel guilty," she told him. "Whoever they take...they likely won't kill them. Someone who's quarry one night...usually becomes a hunter themselves when the hunting's done."

"And that's- supposed to make me feel better?" Lance hissed back, glaring at her out of the corner of his eye.

"It's all we've got for you...because we know you're noble enough to just walk out that door and let them take you," Keith bit out.

"Noble? Try stupid," Pidge grumbled, leaving them all to stew in silence for several minutes. When the shrieking neigh of a stallion sounded somewhere overhead, they all shuddered in fear.

"Do Shiro and Adam know?" Keith asked after a time.

"Yeah. We sent them a note when we felt the first breeze. They already had the bar on lockdown," Matt told him.

"Well, that's something."

"Get a phone, Keith," the older witch said through gritted teeth, though a small smirk lit his features.

"If we live through this, remind me to go shopping," Keith conceded quietly.

Each of them winced internally at the words, knowing exactly how close to death they really were for the cambion to just give in like that. Lance couldn't say if it was a few minutes or a few _hours _later when the entire building seemed to shudder faintly around them.

"They're gonna get in," Pidge whispered, her voice small with terror as she gazed at the door above her brother's head. Setting aside her gun, she took her carving knife in hand instead, rising to her feet to inscribe a fresh line of sigils into the wood.

"Better get ready," Matt warned them as he got to his feet.

"What happens- if they get in?" Lance asked, looking over at Keith.

"Then they'll capture you...and take you back to the Unseelie court."

"No, I know that. I don't mean me. What happens to you guys?" he pressed.

Keith shrugged as he climbed to his feet. "I'll become one of them. Pidge and Matt might have enough fey blood to warrant inclusion. They might not. It's hard to say."

"And...if they don't?"

Keith didn't say anything when he looked down at him, the look in his eyes saying everything. Lance barely managed to swallow his own horror as he looked over at his friends.

"You guys..."

"We knew what we signed up for," Pidge said without looking back at them.

"No!" Lance argued as he shot to his feet, seizing Keith's hand in his. "There _has_ to be something we can _do._"

Keith started to shake his head, but then he tensed. He wasn't able to conceal the reaction before the angel realized he'd thought of something.

"What? _What is it?_"

"Would you- let me try something? I don't know if it would work, but it's all I've got."

"I'll try anything at this point."

Nodding, Keith pressed his knife to his wrist, drawing it swiftly across the skin and spilling a thin line of blood. Coating his fingers in the flow of liquid, he then reached out to pain some sort of rune on Lance's forehead.

"Keith? What are you doing?" Matt demanded, gaze flicking briefly from the door back to the pair of them before fixing on the door again. The sound of claws scrabbling against concrete echoed from an uncomfortably close distance.

"That's not good enough," Lance protested, grabbing at Keith's wrist before he could pull away. "Even _I_ know that. This is serious. Whatever rune you just used..._carve it._"

"Lance-"

"_Carve it._ Into. My _flesh,_" he insisted in a snarl, glaring at the cambion, and whatever Keith saw in his eyes, it must've cowed into some sort of compliance, because he raised his knife to the painted sigil.

"This might complicate things...when we try to send you home," he warned him.

"I don't care. Just do it."

He felt the sting of the blade piercing his skin as he felt few injuries, and that should've said something to him immediately, but he wasn't about to question it. He looked Keith stolidly in the eye as he carved the lines, unflinching even when he felt the trickles of blood flowing down his face.

"_Venari sanguis tuus est meus...in epulari. Tu es praedam mei...et sum venator tui._"

_Your blood is mine to hunt...to feast upon. You are my prey...and I am your hunter._

Lance swallowed heavily, nodding his consent. He knew he wasn't aware of everything that was happening, but aware it was a solemn moment all the same. He almost didn't notice when the door began to shake on its hinges.

"Dammit, Keith! Why did you do that?" Pidge shouted, no more able to pull her focus away from the door than her brother had been.

Lance was about to respond, but then he noticed that Keith was growling – actually _growling_, low in his throat like a dog about to chase down a target. As the door continued to shake, Lance saw the cambion's shoulders rise and stiffen like a wolf raising its hackles. With a look of burning fury in his eyes, he darted from the tub and up to the door, shoving the Holts aside. As he planted himself before the flimsy door, Lance felt the fresh mark on his forehead _burn_.

"This quarry is _mine,_ you sons of rats!" he snarled. "He is mine to hunt! Mine to do with as I see fit! He bears my mark upon his body! Challenge the claim of the son of Krolia at your own peril, whelps! Get you to your mistress!"

Lance stared at his partner in wide-eyed amazement – with maybe just a touch of fear. For a moment, he couldn't see the human shape. For just a moment, he saw the outline of some sort of enormous creature impressed upon the air. That creature threw back its head and gave a long howl of blood lust. Then a high whine sounded from behind the door and it ceased its shaking.

Keith didn't step back from the door, though. He remained right up against it, his body trembling in earnest as he stared at it.

"Keith?" Matt called out softly, voice threaded through with worry. "Are you here?"

"They call me," was all the cambion said, and from what Lance could tell, it was all he could do to go on standing there, not to move forward and push the door open.

"What's happening?" Lance made himself ask, even though he felt like he had an idea. All of this was reminding him eerily of Keith's behavior just a few hours ago, when he'd seemed like he might just run off and leave the angel on his own.

"Demons are predators by nature. Cambions inherit that from them," Matt started to explain as he and Pidge carefully moved into position on either side of the half-demon. "The call's especially dangerous to someone like him because it touches his most primal instincts. It calls him to forget his human heart and become one of them. I've never seen him unable to resist it before, but...well...now he's opened himself up to their influence in a way he never has before."

"How?" Lance pressed, playing ignorant for just a few moments more.

"The Hunter's Mark," Pidge supplied, careful not to touch Keith as she carved a fresh sigil into the door. "The rune he carved into you just now. Only somebody with demon blood can call its power. As far as we know, Keith never has before. He marked you as his. Nobody else can touch you, nobody who answers to the call, at least...but he's open to his darkest nature now. It won't take much for him to walk out that door and leave his human name behind forever."

Lance could tell just how afraid the two witches were, but he couldn't let himself focus on them. To let Keith lose himself like this...after he'd taken such a terrible risk to protect him...to lose him forever...?

_No!_

He wasn't going to let that happen.

Gliding silently forward, he came up just behind the cambion, calling out to him in a gentle voice.

"Keith? Keith, can you hear me?"

"Lance," Keith exhaled the name slowly, _achingly_. His fingers twitched as he fought the compulsion to reach for the door.

"I'm here."

"H- help me."

"I'm here," he said again, being as soothing as he could be. Making certain the half-demon was aware of him, he reached to take first one hand in his, then the other, gently wrapping both their arms around him and slowly walking them both back from the door.

What should've been a short distance felt to the angel to take years to cross. He moved until he came into contact with the tub, letting them both collapse against the porcelain surface. Turning the half-demon in his embrace, he held him against his chest with a strength that was more than human.

"I'm here. I'm right here," he repeated over and over again, and as Keith trembled in his arms, he pressed a kiss to his forehead in the same place the cambion had marked him, bestowing him with his own kind of protection – invisible, but no less powerful.

Lance couldn't say how long they lay like that, clinging to each other in the semi-darkness of the tiny bathroom, but it wasn't until Keith began to properly stir in his arms, not just trembling in silent terror, that he knew morning had finally come. Matt confirmed it when he pushed the door open, allowing golden morning sunlight to spill into the confined space. the siblings crawled out into the light like they hadn't felt its warmth in years, but the angel and the half-demon hung back for several moments, still cleaving tightly to each other.

"Holding up all right?" Lance asked Keith.

"All right as I _can_ be holding up," the cambion said as he looked up at him, confirming the Holts' suspicions with his next words. "I've never- used the Hunter's Mark before. It was more...intense than I was expecting."

Lance let out a small, relieved laugh at that one. "Keith, with you, I don't think it could be less than intense."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Keith tried to joke. Lance knew they were both trying for their normal casual banter, but neither could quite manage it. Nothing was normal anymore. Something had changed between them in the span of a single night. Realizing how close they had come to losing each other as he looked into the half-demon's eyes, the angel suddenly found himself feeling...honest – for lack of a better word. And that feeling seemed to be mirrored in the cambion as they met halfway to each other, lips coming together in a kiss that they'd both _longed_ for.

They both languished in that kiss for a long, drawn out moment, just feeling each other. This...complicated things. They both knew, but neither could allow himself to acknowledge that in this moment. All they wanted to know was each other.

"I think I love you," Lance whispered against Keith's lips with a small, bitter laugh.

"I'm not going to let them have you," was Keith's answering vow. "No matter what it takes. I'm _not._"

XxX

(A/N) I...I think Keith might've just Han Solo'ed Lance. Heh, just a little bit. As of right now, that's all I've got. Seems like a fairly generic urban fantasy setting to me, but if there's any interest, I could probably see my way to continuing it sometime. For now, though, I suppose you'll all be wanting a translation for Lance's splash of Enochian there at the beginning.

_Ol zir a noco de olapireta_ \- I am the servant of light

_Ol zir a napea de malpirgi od a arezodi de teloah_ \- I am the sword of life and the peace of death

_Hoxmarch en dooain, lap Ol zir bagie. Ol zir a ialapereji de anupe, a hara imtelo_ \- Fear my name, for I am fury. I am the flame of love, the seed undying.

_Noaln a caosga edna elasa _\- May the earth receive you


End file.
